


hmm

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Christmas Party, M/M, Miscommunication, Sort Of, no Christmas vibes here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Charles offers to go to the office Christmas party with Erik





	hmm

**Author's Note:**

> This got really off-track from my original thought but I can't seem to do better.

Charles eyed the lipgloss with considerable misgivings.

The red lipgloss simply sat on his bathroom counter, innocent in its inanimate state.

Finally Charles sighed and picked it up, leaning forward as he opened the gloss so he could see his face better in the mirror.

It had been a couple decades since he had last worn lipgloss—Raven refused to let him live down that lost bet in university—but he had not lost his touch. He didn’t over-draw his lips and he didn’t smudge or get shaky. He finished, looked at himself in the mirror, and decided the gloss… wasn’t a bad idea.

Of course, then he wondered what Erik would think, and he had the sudden, sharp urge to scrub it off. But Erik wouldn’t mind. He probably wouldn’t even notice. That was a depressing thought… but it’d be better than having him draw attention to it. It was just some gloss. It’d be fine.

The doorbell rang. He jumped, jammed the lipgloss in the cluttered cup with his tooth-cleaning supplies, and rushed out of the bathroom and down the hall. He paused to grab his keys and coat, then opened the door.

Erik stood there, looking much too attractive in his perfectly-fitted suit with his Hanukkah tie (just in case everyone forgot that he was only there because it was mandatory). He looked Charles up and down, making sure he was decent enough to be seen—and then his eyes caught on Charles’ mouth.

“Why is there vaseline on your mouth?” Erik asked, frowning forebodingly.

“There isn’t,” Charles replied nervously. “I… I put on lipgloss.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Erik narrowed his eyes, still staring at Charles’ lips, then shrugged and let it go. “Got everything?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Let’s go, I don’t want Azazel tattling.”

Charles told himself he was not disappointed that that was the end of it.

~

Erik was Charles’ college roommate. They had got along alright. It was only after Erik had graduated and Charles was on his way to his first PhD that Charles had learned that Erik had had a devastating crush on him. But by then it was too late to say anything, so Charles had let it go.

Ten years later, they had reconnected via Raven’s wedding (Erik worked with Azazel, Raven’s husband), and while Erik had been sharp and formal with everyone, Charles had sensed that it was the old shyness, turned into a weapon to keep people away. So he’d pushed on it, gently, and after a few hours they were friendly again.

Charles may have kissed him after a few too many drinks, but it was kind of a blur and he wasn’t even sure it hadn’t just been a vivid daydream.

Now they hung out together fairly often, watching bad romance movies at Charles’ house or playing various video games with Erik’s son at their house or even just playing chess in the park. This meant that, when Erik complained bitterly about the mandatory company Christmas party, and how he was tired of having his coworkers’ significant others flirt with him, it was only natural to Charles to offer, “What if I came with you? They’ll presume I’m your date and they’ll hopefully leave you alone.”

Erik had blinked at him for a moment. Then he had said, “Okay.”

So now they were in Erik’s van (he had taken the back seat out for Charles’ wheelchair; Charles himself sat up front) and driving to the party, which was being held at the office building.

“So, um… is this just a regular office party?” Charles asked. “Where people stand around talking and get drunk?”

“Yes, but there’s always at least one fistfight, and three people have been caught doing speed in the last five years, and there will inevitably be karaoke.” Erik’s sour expression made Charles smile. He looked more disgruntled about karaoke than the fistfight.

“Well, I’m more than capable of running over cords and unplugging them if any singers turn out to be really shitty,” Charles assured him, still smiling.

Erik snorted, and his expression eased. “If you’re prepared for the shrieking harpy that is Emma when she’s drunk, then please, feel free. I already get migraines from the Christmas carols that are always blaring.”

Not for the first time, Charles wondered why Erik, who had never minded breaking shitty rules before, bowed to the demands of the company so easily. He was an opponent of capitalism, he worked in his local community garden, he often donated to grassroots organizations that fought for worker’s rights, and yet when his boss told him he was required to come to a shitty party, he went. But Charles had never felt like they were close enough to ask. There was still a wall between them. Charles didn’t want to knock too hard and possibly be pushed away.

They chatted as Erik drove, the radio playing classic rock softly. There was only one station in New York that Erik would listen to during Christmas season; he even sat through the commercials. Charles had offered Spotify before, but Erik had (politely) refused. So they talked over commercials that used the season of giving as an excuse to shove extra hard for people to buy for themselves.

Mostly it was children. Erik’s twins were starting high school, and his youngest was having trouble with teachers who thought her dyed hair was a distraction and a sign of disrespect. Charles bragged about his nephew, who had skipped a grade and was determined to be a scientist so he could figure out how to teleport like on Star Trek. There was work, too, but Erik always got defensive when Charles talked about higher learning, and Charles didn’t understand architecture at all, so they stuck to interpersonal drama.

Charles was winding up a long rant about the head of languages, who seemed to have a vendetta against everyone who taught English classes, when they arrived at the office building. Erik had to pay a fee to park, but at least they got a spot away from the walls of the parking garage. Then they navigated to the elevator and both wrinkled their noses at the stench of cigarette smoke.

The building was cold, so cold Charles could see his breath. He shivered, and was glad of his wool coat. Erik scowled and rubbed his hands together; he hadn’t brought gloves.

“Fucking Janos, always turning down the heating,” Erik muttered, then glanced at Charles. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Charles replied. And it was true. Those years in England with no money to pay the heating bill had taught him to ignore the cold. “But I think I’d like to go to a warm place for dinner.”

Erik grinned. “Seconded.”

“Lehnsherr! There you are!” A beautiful blonde woman in a white dress with a white belt and a white fur coat, with white tights and white heels, stepped out of a doorway and struck a pose that perfectly conveyed deep annoyance. Perhaps she was trying to make up for the fact that she was trying not to scowl. “Who’s that?” she demanded, blue eyes noting every wrinkle and wayward line on Charles’ person.

“My partner, Charles Xavier,” Erik replied bluntly. Charles didn’t even twitch at the not-agreed-upon lie; he’d pretended worse things than being Erik’s boyfriend. “Charles, this is my manager, Emma Frost. She’s a nuisance.”

“As if you’re any better,” Frost retorted with a sharp look that was almost a glare. Then she turned back to Charles, surveyed him once more, and smiled prettily. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Xavier.”

“Pleasure’s mine, Miss Frost,” Charles replied with a smile of his own.

“You’re a lot more polite than his last boyfriend. Hurry up, Lehnsherr, party’s already started. Why’d you wear that tie? It doesn’t match your suit.”

“Charles likes it,” Erik replied defensively. Charles, surprised that Erik remembered, blushed.

Frost rolled her eyes, but led the way into a very, _very_ big room.

Charles gripped his wheels tightly and looked around warily. It was definitely warmer in here, but that was because there were too many people. There was a bar, with three bartenders, and lots of tables, and a dancefloor, and the place was packed. Charles wondered with a sinking heart if tonight was a terrible mistake.

“Watch yourself,” Frost told them both, and flitted off into the crowds. Charles looked up at Erik, confused, and saw that he had the strangest look on his face as he stared. Charles looked where he did, and saw a man with a too-wide smile approaching. He was dressed all in white, too, except for his silver-blue cravat.

“Erik!” the man caroled, stopping just out of Erik’s reach. “I’m glad you could make it! Who’s this?”

“Professor Charles Xavier,” Erik replied stiffly. Charles recognized the look in his eyes, now; this was Erik’s ‘Murder’ face, but he was trying to repress it. “Charles, this is Shaw.”

Charles smiled politely at Shaw. “Hello,” he said. He wasn’t going to forgo manners, but he wasn’t going to trust this man as far as he could throw him. Erik had good instincts when it came to bad people.

“Wonderful to meet you, Charles!” Shaw replied, his too-wide smile widening somehow. He looked downright predatory, and it made Charles want to leave immediately. “I hope you enjoy yourself. Don’t break him, Erik!”

And then Shaw turned and walked away. People moved out of his way, doing their best not to catch his eye. Erik let out his breath slowly and Charles couldn’t help it, he reached up and touched Erik’s hand. He hadn’t felt that disconcerted since childhood.

“Drink?” Erik asked suddenly.

“Non-alcoholic,” Charles replied softly. Like hell was he going to let himself get tipsy here.

Erik led the way to the bar, and Charles ignored the usual surprised glances. He didn’t know why they were looking at him like that; because he was in a chair, or because he was with Erik? Maybe both.

The bartenders didn’t even blink when Erik casually asked for two glasses of orange juice. Charles was very glad. He was also glad that Erik found an empty table for them both, and moved chairs out of the way for him. Charles was too busy watching everyone and trying to judge the general mood of the gathering.

Bored, mostly; he could see knots of tension, but there was also laughter, and the music wasn’t too loud. He sipped his orange juice and did one last scan of the room before turning to Erik, to see that Erik was watching him with an odd expression.

“Yes?” Charles asked, puzzled.

“Where’d you learn to be scared?” Erik asked bluntly.

“I’m not scared,” Charles protested.

“You’re watching everyone, you’re not drinking, and you’re being quiet. Remember that time in our first year, when you did the same thing every time Rupert was around?” Charles flinched; Erik continued. “You’re scared of something, and you were scared before Shaw came up to us.”

“It’s just… a lot of people,” Charles muttered, and took another sip of his orange juice. It had pulp in it. He put it down.

“So? I’ve seen you in bars way more crowded than this.”

Charles balled his fists in his lap. He could really wish Erik wasn’t so observant of him. “I… I don’t know. It doesn’t _feel_ right here.”

Erik was silent. Charles focused on his glass of juice to fight the urge to look up and scan their surroundings again.

“Ten minutes,” Erik said suddenly. Charles raised his head to stare at him. “Ten minutes, and then we’ll leave.”

“Okay,” Charles replied.

Eight minutes later, though, Azazel had found them, and he and Erik were deep in discussion over some project. Charles watched the party, nervous and not quite sure why. If he could talk to Erik, that would help; but he didn’t want to butt in on a clearly important conversation. So he watched, and waited.

Someone sat beside him. Seeing that they were in all white, Charles turned his head to greet Frost—but it wasn’t Frost. It was Shaw, grinning at him.

Charles tensed, and forced a small smile. “Hello again,” he said, as neutral as possible.

“Hello!” Shaw replied. “You seem bored.”

“Oh… not really.”

“You’re not talking to anyone, though. What, your boyfriend ignoring you?”

Erik and Azazel looked up at that moment, and both of them froze. Charles glanced to Erik, hoping for escape. But Erik sat very still, focused on Shaw. So Charles turned back to Shaw too. “No, we just have nothing to say to each other right now.”

Shaw laughed and flung his arm around Charles’ shoulders. Charles jumped, and looked again to Erik. But Erik wouldn’t look at him. “Erik doesn’t talk to anyone about anything,” Shaw said smugly, leering at Charles. Charles sat very still and tight and tried desperately to think of a way to tell Shaw to fuck off without causing trouble for Erik. “It’s what makes him so annoying.”

“He’s not annoying,” Charles snapped, and then wondered at himself. He had often thought it annoying that Erik kept so much so close, but hearing another person say it was infuriating. Who was Shaw, to pass judgment on Erik like this? “Please let go of me.”

Shaw chuckled and tightened his arm. Charles grabbed his wrist and tried to push it away, but Shaw twisted his hand so that his fingers caught Charles’. Charles yanked his hand free. “Let _go_ of me,” he repeated, a little louder, a little angrier, glaring at Shaw.

Erik and Azazel said nothing.

“I’m just being friendly,” Shaw retorted, still grinning, the bastard. “Come on, you don’t like people being friendly?”

“It is not friendly to touch people without asking. Now LET GO OF ME!”

People began to take notice. Shaw glanced around, seeing the eyes on them, and removed his arm. Charles immediately wheeled away from the table and headed for the door, shivering in fits. People moved out of his way. That was good. He wouldn’t be able to apologize without crying if he ran over a foot or bumped into someone.

He managed to open the door and escape without getting caught, and wheeled a little ways down the hall—and then he stopped and put his face in his hands and gave himself over to shuddering, residual fear tightening his chest and creeping cold fingers up his spine. He’d probably ruined Erik’s career. Oh god—what if Erik was angry at him? What if that was why he hadn’t said anything?

Anger grew beneath the fear. Anger at Shaw, and anger at Erik.

Damn it, Erik had every chance to intervene! He knew Charles was uncomfortable, and he said nothing! The anger at Shaw was the same anger he’d felt towards Rupert; being touched without asking was always terrible. But fuck, why hadn’t Erik said something?!

“Charles?”

Charles tensed again, and stayed hidden behind his hands. Footsteps from behind, the thunk of the door closing. Erik walked up to beside Charles and asked, “Charles, are you okay?”

“No,” he ground out.

“Oh.” Erik had the nerve to sound _surprised_. “Uh. Let’s leave, then.”

Charles lowered his hands and led the way out of the building.

The ride to Charles’ house was silent. Erik didn’t even put on the radio, which would have at least given Charles something to distract himself with. So the fear and anger stewed in his stomach, and his chest remained tight, and his head began to hurt. Erik didn’t even look at him.

They got to Charles’ house. The anger was still present, but now Charles was tired and depressed and just wanted to curl up on the couch and cry. As he was unbuckling his seatbelt, Erik asked, “Can I come in?”

“I don’t care,” Charles muttered without looking at him.

Erik got out to get his chair.

They entered the house and Charles immediately went to the kitchen to fetch a beer. He never kept hard liquor in his home, he didn’t trust himself enough; but an eight-pack of beer was good enough to last a month or two. He didn’t offer one to Erik, partly because spite, partly because he remembered that Erik didn’t drink. Then he went to the living room and sat on the couch, leaning on the arm and opening the beer.

“Why are you angry?” Erik asked from the doorway.

“Because you weren’t,” Charles replied sullenly, not looking at him.

“Of course I was.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Because I knew you could deal with him yourself.” Now Erik sounded annoyed. Bastard. “Why would I say something when you handled it just fine?”

Charles couldn’t think of an answer to that that wouldn’t sound petulant and lazy. So he just took a swig of his beer and stared at it once he’d lowered it to his lap.

He wanted Erik to _care_. He wanted Erik to care enough to stand up for Charles. Maybe it was stupid and childish, but he wanted their friendship to _mean_ something. His mouth was doing that stupid twitchy thing it did when he felt like crying. Raven had often told him it made him look like a baby about to have a tantrum. So he bit the inside of his lip, trying to keep it still, and tried not to be miserable that Erik hadn’t said anything yet.

“Are you going to answer?” Erik finally asked angrily.

“No,” Charles said, and cursed his voice for cracking. Bad enough that his eyes felt hot and full. He took another drink.

Erik muttered something that Charles didn’t catch, then stomped over and knelt beside Charles, putting his hand on Charles’ cheek so he couldn’t turn his head away. “Answer me, Charles.”

“What do you want me to say?” Charles retorted, trying to ignore how a tear had escaped and was currently rolling down his cheek. Erik didn’t even react to it, so Charles decided it must not matter. “I just want you to _care_, Erik. Call me a selfish bastard if you want to, but I just want you to care enough about our friendship to stand up for me.”

“You think I don’t care?” Erik retorted incredulously. “_Fuck_, Charles, I’ve been in love with you for twenty goddamn years and you think I don’t _care_?!”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know you love me?!” Charles shot back, and now his voice really _was_ cracking. “You never said anything! You never let me know!”

“I thought you’d figure it out!”

“How, pray tell, was I supposed to figure out anything when you held so much back?!”

“Because I _don’t_ hold back around you! You think I just randomly tell strangers about my kids, about my work?! Just because _you_ overshare doesn’t mean everyone else should, too!”

“Just leave,” Charles said, and he couldn’t help that it sounded more like sobs than words. “Just leave, Erik.”

“No!” And Erik grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

It wasn’t a nice kiss, not at all. But it broke Charles’ tenuous hold, and he just started crying. The beer bottle fell to the floor, spilling on the carpet. Erik stopped kissing him and hugged him instead; Charles crumpled against Erik’s shoulder, still crying. It took a long time for him to stop.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally.

“You should be,” Erik grumbled, stroking his hair gently. “Look, will you be my boyfriend? Please?”

“Not until you tell me why you didn’t say anything.”

Erik huffed in annoyance, then answered, “Because Shaw’s evil. If I had said anything, he’d’ve fired me. I knew you could make him let go, so I thought you’d be fine. I didn’t think you’d start _crying_.”

“Rupert did the same thing.”

Erik’s hand paused in its soothing motion. “...oh.”

Charles sniffled and pressed as close as he could get. “Yeah.” Then he realized what he’d said earlier. “Am I your boyfriend now?”

“I mean. You kinda said yes.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Just okay?”

“I mean… I would like to be your boyfriend. I just… thought you didn’t want that.”

“Well, fuck.” Erik wrapped his arms tightly around Charles. “I guess we’ll have to work things out before we go official.”

“Yeah. Um. Can I have another kiss?”

**Author's Note:**

> So there is like no resolution and I'm sorry about that
> 
> Edit: please comment


End file.
